To Whom It May Concern
by reject187
Summary: That means you, Fanfic writers! The newsies decide to take over my computer.


Well, I watched most of this from behind my door. It's a small space for all the Newsies to be crowding into my room, but after they typed this, they left the room and went into my kitchen. Then I inserted what they did. Cuz otherwise, it might not make a lot of sense.

- - - - - -

_To Whom It May Concern:_

_That Means All Newsie Fanfic Writers:_

_We, the undersigned, Jack Kelly, Spot Conlon, David Jacobs, Les Jacobs, Racetrack Higgins, Crutchy, Boots, Mush, Kid Blink, Snitch, Jake, Itey, Snipeshooter, Specs, Dutchy, Snoddy, Skittery, Bumlets, Pie Eater, and Swifty, would entreat your indulgence for a few minutes while you read this petition…solicitation…entreaty…request…plead!_

Dave stops tying. "That good, guys?"

"I guess."

_Please! Stop putting us poor boys in romance situations! By now, most of us are happily married! Or at least have serious girlfriends! We really don't want to worry about our significant other wondering if we're cheating on them!_

"Wait a sec, Dave. None of us are married. Jack's not even 18 yet!"

_Okay, so maybe some of us don't have a wife yet. But we don't want to ruin our reputations for whomever we may marry in the future!_

"Who says we wanna get married?"

_Well, maybe our reputations are already ruined. At least some of ours. Take Spot for instance…_

"Hey!"

_Actually, most of us don't even have girlfriends. Some of us have never even had a girlfriend…but we're still arguing the point!_

Jack shoves Dave away from the keyboard.

_You are, Dave._

Dave gets his two words in.

_Just me?_

Jack regains control of the keyboard.

_Yes. Just you._

A small fight ensues, Dave ending up the victor. He continues to type.

_Crap. Well, I guess everyone else…_

This time, Spot get the keyboard. Dave is blocked by the rest of the newsies.

_We're cutting in at the moment. We asked Dave to write this cuz he's good wit typin' and all dat. We wanted him to tell you that none of us have girlfriends, but Spot isn't as bad as he's made out to be._

By now, Dave has access to the keys.

_Says you!_

Spot scowls.

_I'm not as bad as they tell!_

Dave quirks an eyebrow upward.

_Let's see, how many girlfriends have you had in the last month itself?_

Spot's brow wrinkles in concentration.

_Uhh…I dunno. I haven't kept track._

A smug smile appears on Dave's face.

_My point exactly. _He finally gets the keyboard back._ Well, anyone else have an opinion?_

_Askjdoiautelakhf! _(body collision with keyboard)

The newsies erupt in reverberation chaos. Dave winces, and after they die down, starts typing again.

_Ok, after the initial outburst, I got this…for some of the Newsies, the only romance they ever get is from this site…so, apparently, they want you to keep writing. Except don't make yourselves so vulnerable. It detracts from the whole winning you over thing. And if you're too tough, it wouldn't be fun having a girlfriend who beats you up all the time, does it?_

Jack frowns.

_That's enough, Dave. I'm takin ova now._

Dave's quizzical look almost makes me laugh from where I'm hiding.

_Why?_

Jack growls.

_Cuz that is so NOT what we said._

Dave is trying to act innocently, but we all know otherwise, right?

_What did you say then?_

Jack grabs the keyboard and types furiously.

_Lemme type! We want girlfriends! We're desperate! All the girls keep leaving us or dying cuz of the Delancys or natures course! So help us out a bit! _

Dave yelps and gets his fingers on the keys.

_What about me? I don't want a girlfriend!_

Jack scowls at Dave and types more.

_Okay, Davey here doesn't want a girlfriend until he's 20. Wait a few years. Oh yeah, and Sarah is getting sick of being dumped by Jack for another girl all the time, so if she can't have Jack, give her someone. _

Kloppman comes in.

_Alright, boys, time to head back to bed._

All the boys groan.

_Kloppman!_

He tries to act fierce.

_Now! Give the poor souls their computer back! Or no lodging for a month!_

Its pays off.

_There, they're gone now. Just keep writing like you have been. It's pretty good…I don't mind it, but why is there never anything about my story! I want a story! Why did I never get a girl? What happened to my wife! Somebody, write something!_

- - - - -

Well, they had an idea. How was I to mess with chaotical perfection?

Alright, done with the initial outburst. Newsies belong to Disney, and don't kill me. I'm not insulting anyone's writing. The Newsies here just decided they wanted some say on my computer for once instead of me shaping everything for them. They get so pushy sometimes!

So, thanks to all those who review in advance, and I'll tell them what you say as they eat all the pizza in the freezer…and all the popcicles…and egg rolls. Hey, get away from my Dr. Pepper! runs off

-from the other room

c'mon, RJ! We're hungry! And thirsty!

You can eat anything BUT my egg rolls, and drink anything EXCEPT my Dr. Pepper. Understood?

Popcorn and Sprite?

Movie night?

Deal.


End file.
